Rhythm of Creation
by BuddhaBooty
Summary: Armada: Read the Ambrosia series before you read this! In the dark many things become distorted, many fears arise, and you may even see some ghosts from your past, but when those ghosts cause you to hurt you lover, what do you do? Rape and spark scars.


**Rhythm of Creation**

This story is based off the Ambrosia series and will make NO sense at all unless you read those first. Dedicated to Cyndi. I do not own the Transformers. Unicron's POV

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How anyone could find the darkness peaceful will elude me for the rest of my life. It is the all-encompassing, danger-ridden darkness that exists within space. For me, darkness is a cruel hand tearing into my circuitry. It is acid flowing mockingly slowly across my sensors, searing pain that courses through my neural net at every touch.

For me, darkness is hell.

So how it is that Starscream could want to be somewhere dark and silent right now escapes me completely, yet there he stands, requesting with that face that the Earthlings would call a 'kicked puppy' for me to take him somewhere dark and silent.

"Unicron? Are you alright?" he questions, optics glimmering in the light of his holo canvas's newest addition. The scene is one from Earth. It is a meadow amid thousands of carefully constructed trees, the golden light from the pseudo-sun cascading down layers upon layers of needles of pine trees.

"Unicron? I need to be somewhere I can think. I need some inspiration. Please, may I go somewhere dark?" Starscream's question rouses me from my thoughts and I look deeply into his optics.

"Starscream, the dark is dangerous. You could be hurt, or worse…" I trail off, but he knows of what, or, more accurately, whom, I speak.

Primacron, my creator, my master, my tormentor. I shall never, for as long as I may live, forget what was done to me. My spark's innumerable scars, courtesy of Primacron, ache in remembrance of a dark room, a spindly hand painting agony across my small, delicate body.

"Unicron, please, I never said you had to be there with me, but I need this," the begs, optics pleading with me for some leeway.

I sigh as I speak softly, "If you can explain why you want to go, what is so special about the dark that it will grant you inspiration, then I will go with you."

His optics light up in a way that tells me he's pleased.

"Darkness, Unicron, is like stepping into an amplifier. Although you cannot see, every other sense is amplified tenfold. You can feel every sensation, hear every word, smell every scent in an echo, like a raindrop that will ripple through your senses, shaking you to your very core," Starscream speaks so eloquently, words resounding in the holo canvas like strokes of his beautiful fingers. If this is his wish, then so be it.

Memories of energy whips flailing across torn circuitry, unheard cries for help, and a cruel, jagged smile tear through my mind at the very thought of entering the dark. Starscream, sensing my discomfort through our bond, embraces me, the warmth leaving me marginally sated.

"I will go with you," my voice is stoic, but Starscream sees through to my inner turmoil, boiling over the cold expression that resides on my face.

Gently drawing my avatar against his chest, Starscream sits against one of the trees; caressing my face so gently one might think me an ice sculpture.

"Unicron, you know I would never force you to do anything you do not want to," he begins, words stroking my audio sensors with every resonating syllable. "But at the same time, you cannot stand on the brink of the cliff, looking over the edge, hoping no harm will come to you. Unicron, you need to jump and trust that I will be there, waiting for you. I will always be there, love."

His words float through the air and I know that he is right. I have to trust him.

Grasping his hand and altering the scene as I stand, pulling him up with me, I jump…

…And am caught by my love as his strong arms wrap around my avatar, now more sensitive than ever, warmth seeping through my body as his hands begin to roam over my chassis, down my arms and a part of my mind panics as I recall Primacron's way of lulling me into a false sense of safety before forcing his lips against mine, digging his teeth into my too-soft cheeks, trailing acid along my spark casing, or worse. I tense, bracing myself for my lover was no longer touching me; Primacron was.

He must have felt me tense because suddenly, his hands stop, cold, panting breaths sending shivers along my back as he inquires, "Are you alright, love?"

A part of my mind that had not been active for many centuries leaps into action, shrieking for me to stay calm or else. Primacron will surely punish me for anything less, never mind the fact that I am billions of tons heavier than him. Is he angry that I had loved? Has he taken Starscream? What will happen if I change the scene, or turn on the light? I am so afraid of seeing those malicious teeth turned upward in a crooked grin, and seeing crimson optics, I cannot move, much less change the scene.

"Of course, master," I reply stiffly and feel him recoil behind me. What did I do wrong?

"Unicron? It's me, Starscream. Why are you broadcasting so much fear, love? I already caught you. Now come on, kiss me, silly," his voice replicates Starscream's. His body is the same. Primacron has used his ability to take Starscream and now is using his form to toy with me! He made me feel and hear and even smell my lover! That bastard! I'll kill him! I'll kill him! I'LL KILL HIM!!

Swirling around, colors that would have blurred invisible in the darkness, I numb all of my neural receptors, grasp Primacron's wings and tear them off, eliciting a cry of pain from his vocalizer so like Starscream's I nearly falter.

Nearly.

Reaching into his chest, instantly shattering his cockpit, cursing him for taking the shape of my beautiful Screamer, I tear open his spark casing and take my revenge for all the millennia I had spent suffering. I scrape and scratch and claw at his spark, relishing the shrieks of agony I receive as I prepare to take my final revenge: light.

By forcing Primacron into the light, I will destroy him no matter what form he is in, for in true light, there is no room for darkness.

Giving his spark one, final tear, I change the scene to a warm Earth beach Starscream had painted and wait for the screaming, burning end of my former master.

And wait.

And wait.

The only sounds I receive from the mech beneath me are muffled sniffs and gasps. Finally, daring to peek, I gaze into my master's optics – and freeze.

The sorrow, fear, pain, and deathly beauty that I see in his optics could never belong to Primacron; they are Starscream's alone.

Meaning I had violated his spark.

I begin to tremble as I scramble off of my lover, no words forthcoming from my vocalizer as I swiftly start my repairs on his battered body.

I online my sensors to try to take some of the pain away and stall out as I am hit by wave after wave of torment. His spark is SCREAMING because of me.

As I continue my repairs through the haze of agony, I whisper a soft litany, repeating the words that I only pray can ever be enough.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," I chant, tending to my frozen mate, contemplating what to do when I finish. How do you apologize for nearly destroying someone's soul?

"Don't let me go back there," chokes Starscream and I stop moving in order to direct my full attention to him.

"Starscream?" I listen intently to the constant gasping of his struggling intakes.

"Don't make me go into the dark. Primacron's waiting for me in there. I can still feel him tearing out my circuitry, my spark, MY SPARK! He's still touching my spark! Help! Unicron, help me!!" he shrieks, writhing in torment. I stare. He thinks Primacron had violated his spark. He is waiting for me to rescue him. He is waiting for me to save him.

Gathering him in my arms, I hold him against my chassis, allowing him to weakly beat and kick against me as I whisper reassurances into his damaged audios.

"You're safe, I'm here. I won't let you get hurt. I'm not going to leave you. Please calm down."

Lies. All lies, but ones more likely to calm the struggling heap of metallic perfection I hold.

Starscream's fitful movements slowly end themselves as exhaustion and fear take their toll on him and he drifts off to a nightmarish recharge, giving me time to think of the severity of what I had just done. I LIED. I LIED to my spark mate about scarring his SPARK. He will never forgive me, and who can blame him? His spark, pure and beautiful, now carries the darkness of fear, the sorrow of what I have done to him, of what Primacron did to me.

His purity is gone, and with it, his music. I can sense it over our bond. The ever-presence of an orchestra of emotions, all perfectly in tune, every note pure and resonating, every staccato short and memorable, every beat in time, never failing, now is a mess of highs and lows, of long staccatos and screeched sounds, beats always off, notes struggling to keep up with the changing tempo of fear. It is a cry, a plea for light in the dark. The rhythm of creation, Starscream's rhythm is destroyed. And it's all thanks to me.

Starscream can paint no more.

The words echo in my mind, biting into my spark as if he was dead. Starscream's beautiful body, now fully repaired, lies in my arms, but it is not he. This is a wreck. This is a hollow being. This is the wrong chord, the sour note.

This is a dead mech.

And now I hear him.

Softly, the name spilling forth from his lips so quietly I nearly miss it, he speaks my name, and I hear it.

It is the one beat, the one note that never falters. It is the high-pitched, pure, peaceful song of our love. It is the part that knows what I have done, understands why, and still can forgive me. It is Starscream's artistry.

In this moment, all the fears I have, all the guilt and pain rush from my body and I know, without a doubt, that though it will be hard, and though it will take time, Starscream will be okay.

He will find his rhythm of creation.


End file.
